1,000 Miles
by Etheromaniac
Summary: There's only 224 miles between them but that's a mere technicality, especially considering the world was ending in three days. The only thing keeping Santana from telling Brittany, the best thing she could call hers, that she was the only thing she would ever want to calls hers was a stalking blizzard; the Ancient Mayans just seemed to have it out for her yet she had them to thank.


**Chapter I**

An Unexpected Apocalyptic Road Trip

* * *

It was the first break she's had since Thanksgiving and she couldn't have been more grateful since Christmas was in just a little over two weeks. Between finals and cheerleading practice for the last football game of the year, Santana hardly had time for herself let alone others. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself every time she screened Brittany's calls or barely answered her texts. The truth was she often found herself at a loss for words when talking to the bubbly blonde; it wasn't only because she was dating Sam. After sectionals, and after making sure Marley was okay (though she'll never admit that was why she stuck around), Santana threw herself headfirst into the college life as a distraction from the telltale signs of a budding relationship and the decline of her own. Thus started this vicious cycle of keeping herself busy to stop the flow of thoughts only for the flow to continue when faced with the reason why she was so busy.

A quick meal at the dining hall, catching up with friends, and a much needed hot shower later found Santana trudging about her dorm with no direction. Now that she had total peace, courtesy of an absent roommate, she didn't know what to do. Her aching muscles demanded complete rest yet her mind craved some kind of mental stimulus, a nasty after effect of studying as much as she did; she refused to disappoint Brittany any further.

She considered lounging in bed for the remainder of the night with a movie on her laptop, at least until sleep could conquer. But as she dropped her towel in favor of some flannel pajama pants, a tank, and the university's cardinal red hoodie, a tingle at the base of her spine trailed a need to check Facebook. It had been a week or two since she last glanced at it, so she was bound to have missed some juicy gossip with her circle of friends.

Among five messages, seventeen notifications, and an active newsfeed, what Santana had not expected to see was a peculiar status by Sam.

**Sam Evans:** She said yes! Alright, alright.

_Tina Cohen-Chang, Joe Hart, and 12 others like this._

_View all 19 comments…_

If that wasn't questionable enough Santana didn't know what else was; naturally, curiosity got the best of her. Curiosity also killed the cat, especially considering the first comment was from Lord Tubbington. _That traitor_. Following the enthusiastic series of meows and hisses with one too many exclamation points was another comment to give way to worry. An unknown name, presumably an old friend of Sam's, said congrats. Another two wished the best of luck before a familiar named popped up in the sea of confusion.

**Tina Cohen-Chang:** I'm happy for you both, but isn't this kind of soon? Not to mention you're both young. _4 likes._

Santana was beginning to panic at the implication; comments like that only meant one thing. Then Sam's response revealed the dead end all the signs pointed to.

**Sam Evans:** If the world really is coming to an end, I want to spend these final days as Mr. and Mrs. Evans. _5 likes._

And beneath that the fiancée in question appeared; Santana's being shattered.

**Brittany S. Pierce:** It'll be like that Bradgelina movie except it won't be as violent and way sexier. I can't wait for the wedding! _2 likes._

They were getting married. They hadn't been dating for even a month and here they were engaged and planning. Santana knew she made a mistake, one she had firmly stood by nonetheless, but was the universe really this cruel? More importantly, did Brittany move on from her that fast, that easily? They weren't on speaking terms – correction, she wasn't on speaking terms with Brittany – but Santana had hoped they could spend the holidays together, as per tradition. It was only ever broken once when Brittany was with Artie, now she was doing it again on an extreme scale.

_Marriage?_

Santana's temper rose to epic proportions, causing her to slam her laptop shut, flip her chair over as she stood, and scream in frustration. She knew she said they could see other people, yet the last time they talked (really talked – at the Grease play premiere), she thought Brittany was as adamant about not following through as she was. Clearly that was foolish thinking; of course others would notice Brittany's brilliance, and Brittany, her all-loving gentle soul, would reciprocate.

Part of Santana was initially relieved to know the love of her life was able to find happiness, even if it wasn't with her. It was cliché, it was sappy, and it was everything that only ever happened in chick flicks or a Nicholas Sparks novel. On the other hand, the strongly selfish side of her felt that Brittany's happiness meant nothing if Santana wasn't the cause of it. It demanded to fight for her birthright because at this point in life, eighteen years of it, she swore she was born to love Brittany.

Her emotions waged a great war until the battlefield ran red with blood, or in this case, tears began to unknowingly stream down her face as she glared at her laptop. Santana would have ripped out her spine in that moment if it would save her from future foreboding tingles. In the end, however, Brittany was going to pledge her love to another and Santana was going to let her.

Her selfish persona roared and thrashed in its mental prison as Santana flipped open the portable device, and in an eerily calm fashion typed a quick comment and status. The corresponding commentary came flooding in a matter of seconds but it was of no importance to her as she shut the computer off and stumbled to bed with blurry vision.

**Santana Lopez:** Congrats. _1 like._

**Sam Evans:** Thanks Santana, your blessing means a lot!

**Brittany Pierce: **San…

(-)

**Santana Lopez:** Might not make it home for winter break. I know you'll all miss my charming ways but the car's busted. Happy freaking Holidays.

_Brett McBride, The Mack and 4 others like this._

_View all 31 comments_…

**Brittany S. Pierce:** :(

The days passed faster than Santana would have liked, but as she constantly reminded herself of the newlyweds, she had come to realize that it wasn't such a bad thing. They got married on the fourteenth – it was now the day after. She didn't spend a good portion of the day going through the photos, she didn't read all the moronic and cheesy comments, and she most certainly didn't type out multiple comments of her own only to delete them. Nope, she didn't do any of that because that was pathetic. Instead, she basked in the freedom of having the room to herself for the next thirty days. The fact that she didn't have to suffer yet another three hour drive to shithole, USA was always a bonus in her book.

To be honest, it wasn't all that glorious; she was bored out of her mind. Most of her friends went home with a few stragglers staying behind for various reasons. They wanted to play in the snow almost every day it seemed, which she was so not down with. Alternatively, she decided to pretend that all electrical devices were dead. They all led back to communication with Brittany, which for all intents and purposes, Santana continued to avoid.

No laptop – Skype automatically logged in upon boot up and for the life of her she couldn't figure out how to change it. Four attempts not only proved her lack of technological intelligence but that Brittany was always online; Santana gave up and declared the computer off limits.

No Xbox360 – she blamed Puck for getting her into Call of Duty and Halo. She also blamed his loud mouth for the multiple Facebook messages she received on her phone from Brittany accusing her of the obvious crime.

Television was out of the question because day time TV sucked not to mention years of Cheerios discipline made it difficult to enjoy being a couch potato for long periods of time. Certainly there was no cell phone usage, especially after Puck, and that was instated for self-explanatory reasons.

For the next three days Santana simply exercised, hung out with friends (when it didn't involve snow), and even got a head start on next semester's studies. Though, what was truly unbelievable was that she eventually forgot Lima existed; it was nothing more than a blip on her brain, like a benign tumor until something triggered its malevolence once again. That something came in the form of on angry letter by one Quinn Fabray on the third day.

_Dear Santana,_

_I hope this letter finds you unwell because if I find you otherwise you'll be anticipating more than a smack. _[Wanky.] _Why is your phone always off and why aren't you answering to anything I send on Facebook? Do you have any idea how worried I am?_ [Bullshit.] _Do you have any idea how worried your parents are?_ [They know and they're fine.] _Or how about Brittany?_ [Goddamn this bitch.]

_Better yet, do you want to explain to me why in the world Brittany and Sam are dating, or married rather? They're taking the Mayan Calendar debacle too seriously and are holed up in Brittany's house like a couple of _[watch it Fabray…] _Neanderthals! There are so many things wrong with this situation that I don't even know where to begin, but I do know one thing is for sure; this is your entire fault. _[What…] _Don't you dare get all indignant about it because we both know it's the truth. I don't know how matters turned out this way nor do I care to find out, just clean up your mess and fix this Santana._

_Love _[fuck you]_, Quinn_

_P.S – You owe me 45¢ _[bull-fucking-shit]_ for this ridiculous letter. _[Nobody told you to fucking write it.]_ Also, I know your car isn't "busted." Drive here NOW._

Santana was shocked to say the least. She didn't care much for the other blonde considering their spat before sectionals; she assumed the feeling was mutual. They were constantly trying to achieve higher than the other and they were blunt with one another, qualities that led to many prior squabbles yet kept them in tandem and moving forward. This particular heated discussion was no different except Quinn was harsher than usual. Sure, Santana fired back with passion, later seeing it as the truth she continued to deny; that didn't make it hurt any less. However, that was an issue best left for a later date.

Quinn wanted her to fight back. She may have said fix it but there was only one way to resolve in mind. Santana would need to get Brittany to break up, er, divorce Sam, which meant she would need to get Brittany to fall in love with her again, assuming she fell out of love in the first place. It was never confirmed or debunked. Santana was far from investigating further since having her heart broken once at confronting feelings.

But _Quinn_ wanted her to fight back; Miss cheating-is-a-sin-though-she-cheated-not-once-but-twice-and-recently-helped-a-married-man-cheat-on-his-wife Fabray.

Santana dropped the letter in disbelief until she noticed some intensive writing on the back. In her haste to read what the great Yale student had to say, because if Quinn stooped as low as writing a letter to contact her it had to be important, she missed the various writing styles and signatures when the paper was folded. Her eyes quickly scanned over the contents once, twice, four times, six, until tears unwillingly sprang from her eyes for the first time since the Double Blonde Bombshell Incident (as she dubbed it). There, right in her hands, was but a few reasons why she should get her girl back and all before the world supposedly ends.

_I may be biased as a fellow unicorn, in Brittany's words, but you two are the high school sweethearts statistics talk about. Your love is too great to fail the numbers now. Besides, one of the homosexual couples from high school has to make it._

_You defended Kurt and I in a place no one else would so I'll defend your love when you won't. Not to mention, White Chocolate and his hip thrusting need to go._

_I don't support much of anything but I definitely don't support mediocrity._

_I know what it's like having someone you love taken from you, and I would never wish that on anyone, but go get your gurl back!_

_It is to my knowledge that you are in a bit of a crisis, so allow me to lend a hand. As much as I like Samuel, because he is a good guy and would without a doubt treat Brittany like a well-respected woman, I must admit that no one compliments Brittany quite like you. My time with Finn may be over but yours should not meet the same fate. Oh my, Quinn is giving me a disgruntled expression therefore I shall make this short. Go forth and – JUST FIX THIS SANTANA. How rude; that was Quinn by the way. Good luck!_

_Sam is my boy but you came first (pun intended). Besides, there's no way I'm giving up my personal threesome fantasy. Go get some!_

_Brittany deserves the best life can give, and though Sam is a close first, no one can deny that certain spark in her eyes when she's with you. Treat her right this time Santana, or else._

_I'm happy for Brittany and Sam, and perhaps in another life they would be perfect together, but everyone knows you're the one for her. I think even Sam knows._

_I don't know why I'm being asked to do this but, like, get your shit together and get your girl. You can probably pelvic thrust better than Sam anyway, after all hips don't lie. MWAH!_

_You didn't go through all of junior and senior year for nothing, San. Brittany loves you more than she has ever loved anyone, don't forget that. Or do I have to slushy some sense into you?_

_Hey girl. I was a bit hesitant to write this because we're in the same boat, but you need hear this as much as I do. We always want what's best for the ones we love, even if that may no longer be us, but we shouldn't sell ourselves short. We deserve to be happy too, and if Brittany and Sam are the only ones capable of making that happen, then good God will we be selfish. Now I need you to get your girl up off my man before I cut her._

_Santana, as much as we never see eye to eye, even I must admit that I'm jealous of what you and Brittany have. Yes, present tense, because it hasn't gone away and never will. Your love is the kind many can only dream of achieving and you found it at such a young age. The road will always be tough but never lose sight of what started the journey. Brittany will always guide you home; she is your home._

Her friends, people she didn't get to really know or acknowledge until her final high school year, were coming together to give Santana the push she needed. They all believed she still had a chance.

That's why she was soon bolting out the room, to get Brittany back and all before the world supposedly ends. She haphazardly threw her parka on along the way and hastily wrestled her car keys from her right pocket. The driver door of a luxury vehicle was flung open and a single key was jammed in the ignition.

The engine refused to start.

* * *

Santana refrained from crying in front of her friend as she checked under the hood. The red-head was a full-time student part-time mechanic and Santana couldn't have been more thankful that she was one of the few who stayed behind. She just knew the ginger was going to fix it, except said ginger announced that the engine died and the car would need to be towed to the nearest garage. Santana almost had a fit behind the wheel. Instead, she thanked the girl with a blank expression, cursed the universe for cursing her, and resigned herself to the knowledge that this was all cosmic bullshit.

The cosmos decided to add an oncoming severe snowstorm to the mix.

It wasn't until midnight, at the start of a new day, that Santana's burning spirit was rekindled. She would be damned if she never got to at least see Brittany again. With how it seemed some higher power felt the need to scramble her life, Santana almost believed the end of days wasn't a hoax. Whether it was legitimate or not, she was a woman on a mission; she had two days to get to Lima, Ohio and time was wasting. Rain, hail, sleet or snow, Santana was going to find her way back to Brittany.

With that in mind, when she was supposed to be waiting for her friend and the tow that morning, she abandoned her vehicle and took off out of the student parking lot just as they were pulling up. Before any questions could be asked, Santana was gone from view. Her car and the oncoming frost-fest was the least of her concerns. She was moving without much thought, one goal in mind; she was hell bent on succeeding so much so that she forgot her cell and wallet. She didn't think much of it until she reached the campus transportation stop. No amount of excuses could get through the stoic bus driver to admit a free ride.

Again, she was at a crossroad. The smart choice was obviously to go back to the dorms, plan this out correctly, pack the necessities, and attempt to snag a last minute flight or bus home. But like they say, people do foolish things when in love, and that's how Santana ended up in the backseat of a ramshackle car in severe need of repairs. A couple, a young man and woman, sat up front with the woman behind the wheel. They were students of University of Louisville if the college merchandise all over the car was a good indication, not to mention Santana recognized the girl from her Earth Science class. They were dressed like modern hippies (the 1970's hippies, not hip_sters_), Led Zeppelin strummed throughout the car, and it reeked of weed. Considering her situation, she couldn't be picky.

"Where to my sista'?" The young man, hair dark, shaggy, and complete with a headband made from a striped tie, turned in his seat to face her. His eyes, probably flaring with red along the edges of his eyelids, were hidden behind aviator glasses, but his smile was large and friendly. Apparently neither he nor the driver practiced car safety since the seat belts weren't connected; in fact, one was cut loose and swinging around his hand. Santana was starting to think she thumbed a ride with the wrong people. What good was it if these people couldn't get her to her destination safely? "Sis?"

Santana shook her head, trying to push her worries aside, and double checked that at least her seatbelt was in place. "I'm trying to get to Lima, Ohio. You wouldn't happen to be heading that way, are you?"

She had meant to ask before getting in the car. Standing in a foot of snow with more accumulating around her was a good enough reason to snag the first car that slowed down. Four or five others had merely zoomed by along the major road outside of the university and Santana was quickly getting irritated.

"Solid! We're traveling along the same flow then. Clarissa and I are heading to Cincinnati for the holidays." He nodded towards the lengthy brunette nodding and tapping her fingers along to the beat of _Ramble On_. "We can drop you off there if that's cool. I'm Bartholomew, by the way."

"Santana." Reluctance briefly coursed through her mind on giving her name. She would be spending an hour with these two; it was the polite thing to do. "And that's perfect actually."

"Hey, you're in one of my classes, aren't you?" Clarissa finally spoke, glancing hazel eyes in the rearview mirror. "Heading home for the holidays?"

Santana nodded at the first question with a slight smile only for it to fade as she turned her attention to the passing cars and scenery. "Something like that."

Bartholomew perked up at her gloom and shifted his glasses to perch on his mop-head. "Oh! I smell a story. What's waiting for you in shithole Lima?"

"Ohio native?" He nodded vehemently, familiar bright blues – though not quite the same shade as Brittany's – were wide. She smirked at the similar sentiment towards the northern state. "Why do you think something's waiting for me there?"

"Who the hell willingly goes back to Ohio?" Clarissa answered with a smirk of her own. "Kentucky isn't exactly better but at least it's not _Ohio_."

"Truer words have never been spoken." Santana smiled in kind.

"So what is it?" Bartholomew insisted with his body practically positioned completely in her direction. His legs were folded beneath him with his body leaning back against the dashboard. "Close to your parents? High school friends? A lover? An ex?"

Clarissa smacked his arm. "Dude, privacy."

"Are you two together?"

"As if I would date this loser."

"I'm a handsome loser, thank you very much."

The two proceeded to bicker to Santana's great amusement and fortune. It distracted them from the unanswered question while she had a chance for her mind to catch up to her actions. She was hitchhiking her way to Lima, to profess her undying love for Brittany, and hoped for all that was good in the world that she wasn't too late to rectify all that had passed. She never thought she would be spending the holidays this way. Then again, who did?

A sigh slipped from her lips as she relaxed a bit, folding her arms over her chest. Luck was truly on her side for the two brunettes to have been the ones to pick her up. She couldn't imagine what she would have done if a sleazy truck driver or worse had stopped. On top of that, they left just as the snowfall started to pick up.

She smiled fondly at the two in the front, subconsciously drawing herself to better memories of her and Brittany. Around this time of year, around this time of day (it was almost noon), she and her blonde counterpart would be cuddling on the couch at her parents' house, sipping on hot cocoa, and watching Santa Claus. Preceding that was their great annual snowball fight and snowman building competition; Brittany always won no matter how hard she tried. Santana would often spoon a sleeping Brittany later in the day while she sung Christmas tunes as a lullaby. She couldn't help but wonder if Brittany was reminiscing on those moments too.

"Work it, baby!" A bright flash followed Bartholomew's sudden interruption, and next thing Santana knew she was staring at a developing Polaroid of her love struck visage. "Someone's been struck by cupid's arrow or perhaps cupid's arrow never left."

"Hey!" Santana didn't mind the questions but taking her picture was completely different. "Take another picture Andy Warhol, I dare you."

Without hesitation he raised the bulky all-in-one camera and took another shot. "You're a tiger."

Clarissa stifled a giggle at her boyfriend's antics, her eyes shifting to the teen in the backseat with mirth. "You might want to cool it Bartie. Keep provoking the tiger and you'll get the claws."

A glare from dark eyes was shot her way though it only further spurned their laughter. "Hardy har har."

"Loosen up, girl. You're stuck with us for another," he glanced at the GPS unit suctioned to the windshield. "Fifty-three minutes."

"Fantastic."

The next twenty or so minutes was spent getting to know one another, more so on Santana and Clarissa's part since they shared a class. It was known that Bartholomew didn't attend their university and was four years older than her; he worked two jobs that fortunately he managed to get vacation from. Hence why the two were traveling to Cincinnati, to spend the holidays with Clarissa's parents – his own family lived in Washington having moved there the year before. Likewise, Santana shared a bit of her home life, mostly just her parents and friends. She tip-toed around the subject of Brittany, she didn't even mention the beautiful girl's name for fear of disrupting her integrity. It wasn't too difficult to keep away from talking about her; the brunette couple more than kept her entertained.

They were a mere thirty-nine miles out from the Queen City when a particular Led Zeppelin song came on. Traffic was ideal, the roads weren't too icy, and Santana was in a state of euphoria from the blunt passed between her and Bartholomew.

A steady strum of guitar chords, hammer-on's, and pull-off's played solo for a few measures until a group of violins, other string instruments, and a keyboard joined the soothing tone. Santana was familiar with the band thanks to her parents' extensive record collection but some songs were still unknown to her. Regardless, she liked the song from the first bars of chord and fell in love with it from the first set of lyrics that dripped from Robert Plant's lips.

She closed her eyes as he continued to croon into the deep spaces of the car. The mellow yet somber atmosphere mixed with the loving words was enough to envision a certain blonde beside her. Somehow Bartholomew's out of tune singing even helped the overall mental mirage; she could imagine Brittany acting the same way. They would probably be singing to each other, directly into one another's mouths, eyes locked and never wavering. Santana wanted to make love to this song, especially when the drums joined the melodious consonance.

_Ugh…talk, talk, talk, talk – I've felt the coldness of my winter_

_I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us…_

_But I know that I love you so._

_These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall._

_This is the wonder of devotion – I see the torch we all must hold._

_This is the mystery of the quotient – upon us all a little rain must fall._

As the rest of the song faded out with Jimmy Page's soulful guitar skills, Santana let the words echo in her ears. They struck too close to home, more than she was comfortable with. She was not Rachel Berry therefore she didn't need to bleed her feelings through song. Nevertheless, as silence ran free around the car, she had no choice but to succumb to the demand.

She cleared her throat, voice long since used, and requested the song to be repeated. Much like her current high, she knew love had its ups and downs; her only problem was not only being unable to cope with encountering it but refusing to accept it. Perhaps this was the start to admitting she had a problem – perhaps through this impromptu journey home, to Brittany, this was the start to fixing more than just their fragile relationship.

By the time they were within city limits Santana had committed the lyrics to memory.

* * *

"Cincinnati baby, it's been a while since we've last met."

Bartholomew was partially hanging out of the passenger window as they pulled up to a general rest stop filled with a few gas stations and more than a handful of fast food businesses and minor attractions. The obnoxious man had a smile that could split his face despite the snow and harsh cold that struck it. Santana guffawed at his childish behavior, enjoying the brief chilly breeze before Clarissa reached over, yanked him back in, and threatened to withhold sex if he didn't roll the window back up. He promptly obeyed.

Though the ride seemed short, Santana genuinely enjoyed the time spent with her fellow college student and her boyfriend. She had come to call them friends in a little under an hour, a feat that by chance permitted her to divulge the one piece of information she withheld the entire trip. Or that was possibly the THC talking. _The Rain Song_ had just ended for the umpteenth time which left an odd empty feeling in Santana's mind as Clarissa pulled her rust bucket into a McDonald's parking lot.

"Sustenance!" Bartholomew laughed maniacally as he hopped out as fast as his brain could process.

Clarissa shook her head, shot a quick smile back at Santana, and exited the vehicle as well. Unlike her boyfriend, who was stretching while making obscenely inappropriate sounds, she pulled her seat down and forward to allow their passenger an exit. "Why I'm dating him is beyond me sometimes."

"Because he completes you." Santana inadvertently answered as she stumbled out, earning a questioning glance and a raised eyebrow from the taller woman.

"Speaking from experience?"

"On behalf of someone else…yes."

"I see…" Clarissa nodded though it didn't seem to be towards Santana. "Want to get some fucking fatty fast food?"

"Why the fuck not?"

"Excellent."

The lanky flower child looped her arm with the cheerleader and forced her to skip towards the entrance where Bartholomew was holding the door open for every patron until they arrived. Santana knew she didn't really have time to sit around and converse over a cup of orange soda, but she did need to sit down and finally plan the rest of her course. Bumming a ride this far on a whim was dangerous. Even if the independent and strong person that she was found it exhilarating, she needed to play it safe. She needed to get to Brittany safe so she could share the touching song she heard, so she could sing it, and so she could ravish Brittany in the sweetest way knowing nothing else could tear them down if they survived this.

The main question was where to go from there? Clarissa and Bartholomew knew she didn't have cash, an ID, or anything; they were being more than hospitable in paying for a number two combo meal. Santana was almost sure they were overextending their welcome by sticking around for her like this when they could have probably been at Clarissa's house.

"So it is a lover you're returning to Lima for." He ignored the withering glare his girlfriend was sending his way; she should have known better than to tell him Santana's woes and not expect him to speak on it. "Going out in style?"

The young woman seated by his side, the two sharing a booth seat before the lone Latina, opened her mouth to apologize but Santana rolled her eyes and shrugged. Her eyes shifted to the large pane window behind them, watching the light frozen precipitation float down from grey skies that were only getting darker although it was only one in the afternoon. She sighed and hoped the storm wasn't following them.

"Is that a lover's sigh?"

"Bartie! Really?"

"What?"

They sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. The only sound a side from the ruckus of the busy interstate traffic drifting in and out of the chain restaurant was the barely there noise of chewing and gulping.

"Her name is Brittany." Santana started, left hand gripping and fiddling with the right in her lap, and eyes downcast at the leftovers on her tray. "She's married to this guy we both knew in high school."

"Wow." Bartholomew whistled dramatically at the less than stellar position of her love life, then his eyes shifted to the quarter of her burger left uneaten and the few bit of fries going cold in their carton. "Are you going to finish that?"

Santana laughed; the comedic relief was a great reprieve from her bearings. "Your boyfriend is an ass."

"Tell me something I don't know." Clarissa huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. She ignored the 'what' he sent her way while stuffing his face with the surrendered food. "You are such an ass."

"So what are you going to do? Bust down the door of their place and carry your woman out like a caveman?" He dodged the righteous swinging hands of both girls. "Nothing says I love you quite like the possessive manners of the prehistoric."

"I'm positive her father will shoot me if he saw me do something like that."

Clarissa stole the last french fry to the dismay of Bartholomew. "She lives with her parents?"

"Wait…_they_ live with her parents?"

Santana narrowed her eyes at their perturbed looks. "Um…yeah, she does. She's still in high school."

"You're dating a high schooler?" They both exclaimed almost in sync, and then Bartholomew smiled devilishly, raising his hand. "Right on sista'!"

"Yeah, no," his high five was denied. "They're both in high school. She had to repeat the twelfth grade and they'll both be graduating next year."

"Isn't that a bit young to be getting married?" Clarissa wondered with hesitation; she didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"Preaching to the choir."

"Of course it's not too young. It's only a matter of time before fathers start bartering their daughters and cows again." Bartholomew added his cents.

"And on that note, may I borrow either of your cell phones?"

Clarissa dug through the hemp bag seated in her lap and retrieved a flip phone. "Careful, it's an artifact."

"You guys are a match made in heaven." Santana snickered as the old model was tossed her way before standing.

She stepped outside for privacy but mostly because she needed the fresh air. The cold was nowhere near finding a friend in her, yet as she was beginning to learn, she would take what she could get. With haste and quickly numbing fingers, Santana dialed a memorized number. She probably should have called sooner. Better late than never though, right?

"Hello?"

The curious and confused voice made Santana cough to hide her laughter. She wouldn't be laughing for long if she knew better. "Hey Quinn."

"San-Santana?" She made a noise of confirmation. "Where the fuck are you? And why are you calling from an unknown number? I swear to God if you're in trouble –"

"Wow, Q. Swearing and taking the Lord's name in vain. Want to go three for three?"

"Fuck you."

"You're not that into that, remember?" Santana smirked as she shifted from one foot to the other in a poor attempt to keep circulation in her legs. It was getting colder than she thought. "Anyway, I'm calling to let you know I'm heading there –"

"But why aren't you here now? It's only a three hours' drive from Louisville to Lima, Santana. I checked."

"Thanks mom, but if you would have let me finish you would know why." She frowned because if there was ever a time she wished they would get along, that time was now.

"Whatever." Quinn scoffed.

"My car wouldn't start."

"You are really trying my patience, Santana."

"Well I'm telling the truth, Quinn –" The only response she got came in the form of a resounding click and the static of the end of a phone call. Santana tore the cell away from her ear, eyes staring at it in shock and contempt. If it wasn't her phone she would have tossed it. "Fuck you too, bitch."

Upon returning inside, she found Clarissa on what she assumed was Bartholomew's phone; meanwhile the man himself was missing in action. The other brunette pointing at the bathroom as Santana sat, confirming her suspicion. A few seconds later the phone call was over, leaving Clarissa looking a little distraught and Santana perplexed.

"Everything okay?" She ventured, returning the other phone.

"More or less," replied Clarissa as she stored both cells in her bag. "Have you thought of what you're going to do from here? You're still heading to Lima, right?"

Santana gave a small smile and nodded slowly but surely. "That's the plan."

"I would drive you all the way there except I'm surprised my old clunker got us this far."

"It's fine, honestly. I'm grateful for what you guys have done for me."

Clarissa smiled brightly at that; she seemed so eager and easy to please. It was another trait she shared with her boyfriend. "Well, if it's any consolation, I managed to score you room and board."

"What?" Santana appeared bewildered at the offer. "Are you serious? I couldn't – no, I've already been such a fucking burden on you guys."

"No you haven't." Bartholomew cut in, taking his seat once again. "Besides, where else are you going to stay?"

Their argument was valid; where else was she going to stay? Santana immensely disliked being indebted to someone, although the two before her weren't the kind of people expecting a reward; she still didn't know how to fully accept help.

"I don't have much of a choice anyway, do I?" She challenged.

"No."

"Not really, no." Clarissa accepted with a glint in her eyes.

Santana soon realized why the other college student was distraught. She also learned that the all-accepting, free-loving trait was not something she inherited or learned at home. Her parents were prejudiced, and clearly didn't approve of her bringing Bartholomew along, who seemed to take their condemning glares with a grain of salt. Clarissa warned her in advance that her parents saw the political ad broadcasting Santana's homosexuality for a smear campaign. Unlike the many other citizens of Ohio, they were one of the few who committed the information to memory by pointless chance that they could ridicule the heathen.

"In-laws!" Bartholomew cheered, stepping forward to daringly hug first Clarissa's father then her mother. Santana could feel their daughter seething beside her at the moronic move. It didn't help that he kept his arms around both parents' shoulders as he addressed Clarissa. "It's going to be the best holiday ever, especially now that we have Santana."

"Yeah…the best," his girlfriend mumbled as she too greeted her parents, of course first making sure Bartholomew retreated to where she previously stood.

Santana leaned over to him and whispered, "Is this really a good idea?"

"None whatsoever," he responded while bearing a forced grin. "Want to help me bring our stuff inside."

"Yes." She jumped at the first chance of moving from beneath the Mr. and Mrs. condescending stares. Concurrently, Clarissa pulled her parents inside the ranch house, shooting an apologetic look towards the other two before they turned to the car. "What's their issue with you?"

"'Rissa's parents don't really like anyone. They're the kind of surly people whose only company is each other and their daughter on occasion," explained Bartholomew, pulling a large red suitcase from the trunk. He then grabbed a smaller similar suitcase and handed it to Santana. "Also, I may or may not have almost knocked up their daughter our first year of dating."

"No wonder they fucking hate you," she chuckled, grabbing what looked like a rucksack near the front of the trunk. "I'm surprised they didn't kick her out or ban her from seeing you."

He yanked one more piece of luggage out then slammed the trunk close. "They did actually. First, they banned her from seeing me, which worked for a few months. We dated in secret for the better part of a year until she realized how wrong it felt and didn't want to deny her feelings anymore."

Santana stiffened at the familiarity of his predicament. She silently walked with him to the door only to stop just before they entered. "Then what happened?"

"Well," he drawled with a sheepish smile. "We're here aren't we? It was supposed to be a surprise. She was going to give them an ultimatum of having her in their life, me included, or not at all. But then you joined along and Clarissa couldn't exactly show up with two surprises, now could she?"

"I…I'm sorry."

Bartholomew hip checked her with his typical wide smile. "Hakuna matata. And how does that saying go? Good things come in threes."

"I'm pretty sure it's bad things come in threes." Santana chuckled.

"Hm…technicalities."

As they shared a laugh, the door opened to reveal a nervous Clarissa eyeing the two with dissatisfaction. "Can you two please get in here? My parents are starting to think I'm in some sort of polygamous relationship."

Her boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows though it looked more like he jerked one up and then the other as the first went down. "I'm down with that."

"Wanky."

"So not the time," she snapped, snatching the smaller suitcase from Santana and opening the door wider so the two could enter behind her.

The small one level home was conventional and decorated in such a way that if Santana hadn't known anything about Mr. and Mrs. Bailey she would have gained a sense of how lonely these people were. There were only a handful of pictures of their daughter hanging in the living room, the very room the front door led into, and everything else was odd trinkets or taxidermy. Two individual sofa chairs were placed a few feet away from a moderate size television hanging on the wall. The only other things occupying the living room was a mini bar situated in a corner near the back, a fireplace adjacent to the TV, and a long two tier bookshelf. As someone who came from a restless home filled to the brim with memories physically shown and souvenirs, Santana found the place rather quaint.

"You have a lovely home Mr. and Mrs. Bailey." She wasn't one to withhold the truth but even Santana knew when to lie in such a dire case.

The middle-aged couple, seated in their respective chairs, ignored her and continued staring at their afternoon programs. She wasn't sure if that was a good omen or not, and Bartholomew shaking his head and Clarissa patting her back before leading them to the guest room didn't comfort the ambiguous feeling. Despite the unsettlement, she quickly followed, slightly shocked that there was a guest room yet mostly relieved, and once more wondered what her plan would be from there. Obviously, she was to spend the night; the question was what to do in the morning…if she lasted until morning. There was only so much patronizing attention anyone, let alone Santana, could receive before said person would snap; in her position, that reaction was less than ideal not just for her but for Clarissa too.

"Oh, I am more than looking forward to dinner." Bartholomew devised with delight, dropping the large suitcase and the other luggage on the bed. He then grabbed the other two from his girlfriend and Santana and dropped them on the floor.

Clarissa definitely didn't share the sentiment. She flopped down on the bed and buried both hands in her hair with a sigh. "I'm begging you, please behave."

Santana agreed. She eyed the closed door warily for fear that the parents somehow had super hearing and would come barging in at any moment. "I'm normally all for pissing off bigots but yes, please behave."

He huffed at a few strands of hair that fell before his eyes and sat beside Clarissa, giving her a kiss on the cheek for reassurance. "I solemnly swear I won't be up to no good."

As Santana stared at the couple, the budding feeling of being a third wheel making her uncomfortable, she solemnly wished she was already back in Lima, sharing the same sense of encouragement with Brittany as they gave their relationship another chance. And even with another day to get there, she already felt overwhelmed at the prospect of not making it in time, of not seeing her face before the world ends even if it really wasn't. It was the thought that counted, and with Brittany's many vivid ones, that was more important than anything.

* * *

**Like many Brittana fans, I was less than pleased with the development of Bram, their sudden marriage (no matter the reason behind it), and the lack of concern for Santana in both episodes. I'm sure it has been said many times before, but I also refuse to believe that Brittany would have forgotten Santana in those moments, especially in the latter. In any case, this will be a two-shot without a doubt; it was going to be a one-shot yet something told me to split in half for the sake of length. Well...that and the fact my mind was running on E by 6K words, and this is despite the fact that I have the entire story in mind. This was supposed to be uploaded last Thursday, however, I was finishing up finals, so that completely blew the idea out of the water. **

**Two things: I hope you look Led Zeppelin's The Rain Song, though it is not required. To be honest, I wasn't planning on having that scene in the first place, it was just a little something that developed along the way. Don't you just love it when little tidbits are created without purpose? It's like you breathe life into a story and it takes a step on its own. Also, I was going to include who wrote what in the letter Quinn sent, but I thought it would be a little fun to leave it for you guys to guess. Some are more obvious than others. **

**Read and enjoy!**


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